


Blood on my Hands

by Tator



Series: all he sees is red [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Health Issues, PTSD!Steve, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective!Bucky, depressed!Steve, hallucinations of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:37:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you always fucking coddling me?” He spat out almost immediately. “Don’t you know how to give a grown man some fucking space every once in a while? No wonder the only friends you can keep are the ones that are forced to work with you. No one would stay with a catastrophe like you.” </p><p>Or the one where Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers and he doesn't handle it well (not that he handled anything well before).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood on my Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Steve has some mental health issues in this story that make it so he hallucinates blood on his hands often.

Bucky was getting better. It was Steve’s dream, everything he could ever hope for and more. He could sleep through the night, and go out on his own without having a break down (or hurting anyone), and have conversations with people he had never met. He could _laugh_ now. It was the most beautiful thing that Steve had ever heard, he thought. It didn’t matter that Bucky was getting better without him. It didn’t matter that he wanted nothing to do with Steve. It didn’t. Really. 

***

Steve fell on the bed with a quiet _’oof’_. The last couple of days (months actually) had been a whirlwind of missions and training and saving the world. Steve couldn’t remember the last night he was even in his apartment at Stark Tower, let alone able to sleep in his own bed. He couldn’t think of anything better than being able to pass out for at least 13 hours, possibly 16, but he could. Bucky-

No, he’s not going to think about him right now. He’s going to take a shower and go to sleep and hopefully won’t take up for at least three days. Anything less and he would be disappointed in himself. 

He started pulling off his gear and dumping it on the floor in the bathroom. His uniform was tattered from the latest fight and also disgusting from not being washed in the weeks he had been wearing it while overseas. He dumped the weapons he stored on the counter. All his knives and guns were there. He suddenly couldn’t remember where he put his shield. He put it by the door of his bedroom, right? And where was that pesky tranq gun? As soon as the steam started to fill up the bathroom, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

The shower was quick. He tried to get all the blood off of him, but he couldn’t. He could never seem to get it all off, but there wasn’t enough energy in the entire world to keep Steve on his feet any longer. So it was just perfect, just _perfect_ he thinks, that the universe would then decide this was the appropriate moment for the Avengers to Assemble. Did he mention how utterly _perfect_ it was? He sighed and drudged his way to the elevator. Maybe Tony made the elevator a lot faster since he was gone, or maybe he finally mastered falling asleep while standing up straight, but he was sitting in a briefing room way before he would have liked. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he also got home, but he was also going to have to deal with a team of children known as the Avengers. No one blamed Coulson for wanting to take some time off after his untimely “death”. Everyone, having to fake a death or actually just _die_ already, realized how draining of an experience it could be, so no one put up a fight when Fury gave the Avengers a new handler. No, they just completely blamed Coulson for giving them basic respect and treating them like actual people because they were completely ruined for all other handlers now. That isn’t to say that Richards was a bad person, but Richards was kind of a bad person. She didn’t give a single rat’s ass what the Avengers thought about the missions she sent them on, and she certainly didn’t care about what was going on in their lives outside of the Avengers. For all she was concerned, the members of the team’s only job was the Avengers and the only thing they could ever possibly care about was the mission. 

“Is this really that important? Because I gotta tell you, Richards, there might be something in my lab that could possibly have a reaction equal to a nuclear bomb,” Tony stated as he swung into one of the seats around the conference table. “But really no rush.” 

“He’s kidding,” Bruce denied. “We were just working on equations for a possible upgrade to the electrical in the quinjet.” Everyone ignored the quiet mutterings of Tony that sounded a lot like “spoil sport”. 

Steve took one of the seats closest to Richards. He didn’t particularly like her, but as the leader of this team, he had to be the most civil to her. That and there have already been multiple fights between her and practically all of his teammates, so he took that as a hint to not let anyone near her. He watched as the others wondered their way in. Most of them had apartments in the building, so it never took long for them to assemble anymore. 

Sam was the first one in after Bruce and Tony and did a double take when he saw Steve. “Man, what are you doing here? You just got back! We all had plans to come and prank you during while you were supposed to be passed out in bed.” Steve looked up at him with a glare that said he really wasn’t amused. “Hey, don’t look at me. I vetoed the drawing on your face and moving all your furniture around. I only barely got them to agree to anything that wouldn’t involve extreme personal discomfort. Tony had planned an itching powder that was supposed to, and I quote, ‘defy the stick up his ass’, whatever that is supposed to mean.” 

Steve just rolled his eyes and muttered something about being a true friend that Sam ignored. Sam took the seat next to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Glad to have you back, man. Was getting real dull around here these last, what? Two months?”

“Three and a half,” Steve said while rubbing his hands over his face. He hoped that none of the blood got on it. He really did not want to deal with any of this right now. He turned to the conversation Bruce was having with Sam about the latest research done about therapy designed for vets that they both found interesting. He was trying to pay attention. He really was. He felt guilty about being out of his friend’s lives for so long, even it was for work that was supposed to be bettering the world in some way. But then the Trio walked in, and he couldn’t find it in him to even look way from the table. 

The Trio, also known as The Most Terrifying Squad the World as Ever Seen according to Tony (Steve didn’t know what “squad” meant these days, so he stuck with the shorter name), was Clint, Natasha, and Bucky. They did everything together these days. If they weren’t off training and trying to one up each other, they were out to dinner, or shopping, or hiking, or sightseeing, or whatever. They were inseparable. They even shared a floor, though Tony did remind them all the time that he did make one for each of them. Steve really couldn’t decide what the worst part about them was. There was the fact that Bucky decided he wanted nothing to do with him and avoided him at all costs (which fucking sucked, like knife in his heart kind of sucked), or that he seemed to lose to other friends because Bucky was always around them (might as well add another knife). He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to have a conversation with Natasha alone, and he actually thought they were really good friends. He shook his head. Spies always did lie. Maybe they just didn’t lie to each other. Maybe that’s why they always got along. They could laugh about how everyone fell for a version of themselves that didn’t ever exist. Maybe they laugh about how Steve fell for it, about how he’s an idiot. (Steve’s an idiot.)

“Well, now that everyone is here, we’ll get started,” Richards stated, standing at the front of the room. “As you all know, Thor is out of the galaxy this week, so the mission will have to just be you all.” She pulled something up on her tablet that then floated onto the screen in front of all of them. “SHIELD recently found a series of underground bunkers that belong to an international terrorist ring. Because of their high security and advanced technology within the bunkers, all other teams have failed to get into the bunkers and retrieve the tech we want. So, we’re sending you all in. The bunkers are throughout West Asia and Northern Africa. The mission is supposed to last around a month if everything goes smoothly.” 

Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looked down at the mission plan that was placed in front of him and squared his shoulders. Christ, he thought, a fucking month. 

He was so tired. 

“Whoa, Steve just got back from like a million missions. You can’t send the guy out for another month,” Sam testified, looking at the report. “Cut a guy some slack, Richards.” 

“I agree,” Bruce stated. “He hasn’t had nearly enough time to recuperate from his other missions. The kind of stress that puts on the body-“

“Thank you for your concerns, boys,” Richards interrupted. “But, according to SHIELD’s regulations, an agent has a minimum of 36 hours between missions, and then we are allowed to send them back out. Captain Rogers has had 38 which meets regulations.” 

“Come on, that so is not fair! Your counting is way off! He was on a plane for 14 hours where he was practically dying, and then was in medical where he had to stich himself up because so many people were hurt, which he also helped if you didn’t know, and then you guys sent him to mission briefs and press conferences. He hasn’t been able to rest at all!” Steve closed his eyes and thanked whoever was up there for giving him as good a friend as Sam. 

Richards’ eyes turned steely at the objection. “I realize that the Captain has had a few difficult missions the past few weeks, but as your team leader, he is very vital to this operation as a whole.” 

“We can do it without him. We have in the past,” Clint suggested. 

Richards shook her head. “That mission was a catastrophe and since then, the organization has decided not to send you all out without his guidance.” 

That was the wrong thing to say, Steve thought with yet another sigh. The room erupted from every side. Sam was still defending his honor. Tony and Clint were now upset that Richards found a way to call them incompetent without Steve’s “parenting”, according to them. Bruce had to get out his stress ball, but still fought for Steve’s health. And Natasha seemed to be trying to talk to Richards reasonably. The only one who wasn’t arguing was Bucky. He just sat there and stared at Steve with a blank look. Steve looked up at him before shaking his head and looking down at his hands. (There was still blood under his fingernails.) He was just about to say that he could handle another month when someone spoke above everyone else. 

“I object to this mission.” 

The room quieted down and everyone looked over to where Bucky was still sitting with that blank expression that started to look a little bored even. Richards looked up at him with slight shock. I think this was the first time he ever spoke around her. “What did you say?” 

“I object to the mission.” He repeated. 

“You can’t do that.” 

“Yes, I can.” He sat up a little straighter in his chair with a look in his eye that Steve recognized as him getting ready for a fight. “According to SHIELD’s regulations,” he mocked, “if two-thirds of any team object to a mission, for whatever reason, then the team overrules the handler’s decision and is not required to go on the mission. So I object.” 

“Me, too.” 

“Me, three.” 

“We all do,” Sam said with defiance. “So, good meeting everyone. Richards, try again in a week, and we’ll see. Movie and beer at my place.” 

“I’m in,” Clint said before following Sam out of the room. Everyone seemed to get up and leave then, like it was the end of the meeting even though Richards was still standing there with disbelief written all over her face. She eventually left as well. Suddenly, all that was left was Steve and Bucky. That was a new one. (Not new, his mind supplied. You two used to be alone all the time back before the war, when things were simple.)

Steve took a deep breath before turning to look at him. “Thanks,” he muttered quietly. 

Bucky nodded at him. Steve thinks that he must have been so tired at that point that he was hallucinating because he saw the slightest twitch of a smile form on his former friend’s face. “You gotta take better care of yourself. Never knew you for one to let people walk all over you.” And with that, he was gone. And Steve couldn’t help but think he imagined the whole thing. 

He was so tired. 

***

People sometimes ask Steve why he crashed the plane. Every time would shock him (the tact of this century), but he would smile politely and say something patriotic and heroic, something that Captain America would say. Because these people aren’t asking _Steve Rogers_. They’re asking the hero they fell in love with throughout history, not the one who actually crashed the plane. (The real answer is that he didn’t really think that he would die, not for a second time, not after the train, but then again, he never expected to feel as alive as when the freezing water broke his ribs and made his head spin.)

***

Bruce was the opposite of Steve in so many ways it was laughable. He couldn’t figure out why people thought his gamma radiation was supposed to immolate the serum in some way because really he could not figure out anything they had in common besides enjoyment of a simple lifestyle and quiet conversation. That didn’t mean he didn’t like Steve. That couldn’t be more wrong. He loved Steve. He was just a good human being that was easy to talk to. Who could dislike him besides the villains who got their plans ruined by him?

The biggest difference though was that Bruce always thought there was too much of a problem (he was a drama queen according to Tony), but Steve? Steve didn’t admit a problem even existed unless that problem was literally killing him. And that says a lot because Bruce once remembers having to tell the Captain to sit down and let the medics work while there was a steel rod stuck in his side. He was fine, he argued. Bruce didn’t know if the definition of “fine” was different in the 30’s but he didn’t think it was _that_ different. 

Steve current steel rod? Extreme PTSD and depression. He said he didn’t have it. Swore by it even, but everyone could see it. And with the transparency that the Avengers promised they would keep with each other, everyone knew he was ignoring the diagnosis. 

(“I don’t have it,” Steve said for the fourth time that afternoon. Sam leveled him with a look Steve saw him give unruly vets at the VA. “Steve,” he said evenly. 

“I don’t. I can’t. I don’t have any of the symptoms. I don’t jump at loud noises or freak out whenever I hear gunshots or whatever. I don’t panic in crowds or when people sneak up on me or when people touch me. I can sleep through the night. I can function just fine in the world.” 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have it.” 

“Look. I don’t have it. People with PTSD can’t fight anymore. They can’t be soldiers anymore, and they have to leave. They told them they could go home. THey never... I never… I just can’t, alright?” Steve turned away. Sam clapped a hand on his back. “Alright, buddy. Alright.”)

But, even though he wasn’t going to help himself, doesn’t mean his friends suddenly left him on his own. They decided they were going to help him even if he wasn’t going to help them help him. 

They took shifts. Each of them took a week, if they weren’t on a mission of course, and the shifts rotated. Jarvis would wake them up if there were any problems. So, it wasn’t unusual when the AI told him that Steve hadn’t left the bathroom in 45 minutes. Bruce threw on a robe and stumbled into the elevator to Steve’s floor. This behavior was starting to get worrisome, he mused. Bruce knew that it was getting worse ever since Bucky left, and he knew that if he could just get Steve to talk about it with someone, it would help. Steve refused every time though. Wouldn't even tell Sam what Bucky told him that day, let alone Bruce or Tony. He sighed as he shuffled down the hallway ready to sit in the bathroom while Steve did- well, what Steve does. But someone beat him to the punch, it seems. 

“Whatcha doin’, Stevie?” 

“There’s so much,” Steve muttered. “So much, I can’t get it off. I can’t get it all off.” Bruce knew that Steve’s hands must be rubbed raw at this point. That, at this point, his scrubbing has torn off a layer of skin that his body couldn’t heal quickly enough before it was scrubbed off again. 

“What’s there? Huh, Stevie, what can’t you get off?” Bruce didn’t know whether to go in there or not, but Bruce was just as desperate as the rest of the team to get these two together. He hoped it didn’t blow up in his face and leave Steve worse than where he is. He didn’t know if that was possible at this point. 

“Can’t you see it? It’s all over me. I can’t get it off. Where is it coming from? Why can’t I get it off?” Steve’s breath started picking up and he could hear the scrubbing get harder from his place in the hall. 

“Hey, hey, look at me. I got you, doll. What’s all over you?” 

“Blood. Can’t you see it?” 

“Blood? I’ll look for you. Let me see-“

“Don’t touch them!” Bruce held his breath.

“Hey, you’re alright. Look. Look, Stevie. You ain’t getting nothing on me. You’re alright. There’s nothing there. Stevie?”

“You got it off.” 

“Let’s get you into bed now, yeah? Come on, doll.” 

Bruce saw Bucky shuffle out of the bathroom while pulling Steve along with him. There was some ruffling that meant Bucky had actually got Steve to lay down in the bed, which was further than most people could get. “Sleep well, дорогая.” 

“Buck?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why do you hate me now?” 

There was a pause. “Nah, Stevie, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. Not in this life, or the next. Now go to sleep, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Bucky left the room before Steve could say anything else. He looked up at Bruce and then gestured to the kitchen. Bruce noticed that he wasn’t wearing anything but some sleep pants with his hair down. Bruce wonders if he got Jarvis to wake him up, too. “Does he do that a lot?” Bucky muttered while leaning over the counter. Bruce knew what he was doing. He always tried to make himself smaller when he wasn’t trying to intimidate someone. Steve did the same thing. 

“It’s happened three times during my shifts. I know that Sam has had it happen a hand full of times. Tony, too, a couple of times. Nat and Clint usually aren’t around to help out. And Thor, well, wouldn’t really get it even if he were here.” Bucky hummed to himself while looking down at his hands. “No one has ever gotten him in bed before, you know. He usually doesn’t acknowledge anyone is in the room with him. Just mutters to himself for a few hours while someone sits with him. Tony touched him once. It didn’t go well.” 

“How bad does it get?” Bucky was looking back up at him again. 

“The worst time happened with Sam when you… around ten months ago. The water was too hot or he was using something to scrub, but he managed to peel up the skin around his fingers and knuckles until they bled pretty badly. Sam had to bandage them up after he passed out from exhaustion because the threat of infection.” 

“Does he know it happens?” 

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. “But he won’t talk about. No one can get him to admit it happens.”

Bucky nodded and there was a look in his eye that he was getting ready for a challenge. “Well, thanks for checking up on him. I’ll stay on the couch, make sure he sleeps through the night.” Bruce didn’t ask what was going to happen in the morning when Steve woke up and found the person he loved the most, the person who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him, on his couch wanting to talk about his PTSD. But, he thought it best they worked it out themselves. 

Bruce found him the next day in the gym, four punching bags in, with bloodied tape falling off his knuckles. He didn’t think it went well, whatever did happen. 

(Nothing happened. Steve found him on the couch, said hello, and when he looked again a second later, Bucky was gone. Steve broke three plates and a mug before he decided to go to the gym.)

***

They still went on missions together because the team seemed to respond well to having another sniper in the air. They all liked Bucky. Loved him even. It was such a shame that they couldn’t be in the same room together without Bucky leaving Steve there, wondering what he did wrong. Why did he always do something wrong?

***

“Want to go for a jog with me?” Steve looked up to see Nat’s face from where he was sitting on the couch watching some reality show. “I know a course that’s a nice run. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” Steve smiled and nodded before slipping some shoes on and following her out the door. 

“So, how have you been?” Nat asked before slipping into an easy run. “Haven’t seen you around much.” 

“Yeah, SHIELD has been sending me on non-stop missions it seems.” Steve chuckled lightly. Nat knew it was fake. 

“We both know that’s not the reason why you don’t hang around anymore. But now that you mention it, we are all worried that you’re working yourself too hard.” Steve sped up his stride. “Yeah, yeah, ignore it all you want, but you know it’s true. Last month you were ready to go on that mission, the one that Bucky objected. You were just going to let you send you out like that.”

“Is this why you wanted to hang out? To give me some damn intervention about not being able to keep myself alive?” Steve muttered under himself. Natasha jogged in front of him to stop him from getting too far away from her. 

“You’ve been drifting away from me, Steve. From all of us, even. Clint says you don’t go to the shooting range with him anymore, and I know that you haven’t been to our monthly coffee dates. We miss you.” 

“No,” Steve shook his head and chuckled. “I showed up to the coffee house twice and waited an hour each time only to find out that you and Buck- _Barnes_ had head out to Coney Island or up north to the mountains. And, Clint changed the shooting range every time to make sure we would never catch a tail. He never sent me where to go. I know how to catch a hint, Nat.” Steve started up his run again, this time going a pace he knew that Natasha wouldn’t be able to keep up for very long. 

“Okay,” Nat said. “So maybe that was our bad, but you don’t come to our floor anymore. When movie night is at our place, you never come.” 

“Barnes doesn’t want me there.” Steve said speeding up just a little bit more. 

“He does. You’re the one who has been avoiding him.” 

“Look, Nat. I appreciate the concern. I do, but you have read my files. You know that the serum has given me an almost perfect memory. So I remember exactly what he said to me when he left, and he made it very clear that he did not want me around him.” Steve’s breathing started to pick up. He knew it wasn’t from the stress of the run. He could sprint five miles before getting winded. Steve knew that. He tested it in the war. 

Natasha caught up with him. “What did he say?” Steve shook his head, pushing himself harder, running faster. Maybe the ache in his bones would make him forget. “Steve, you can’t keep going like this. You need to talk about it with someone.” He wanted everything to just go away. 

“Why are you always fucking coddling me?” He spat out almost immediately. “Don’t you know how to give a grown man some fucking space every once in a while? No wonder the only friends you can keep are the ones that are forced to work with you. No one would stay with a catastrophe like you.” 

"Steve, I didn't-" Nat stopped before cursing and then saying something in Russian. She called out to him to stop, to talk to her. Steve kept going. He had to get new furniture for his living room the next day. He told Sam that he didn’t see who did it, and he told himself that he wasn’t lying because he couldn’t see through his tears when he did it. 

Clint told Sam who then told Steve that she broke Bucky’s nose. He tried not to appreciate it because team members shouldn’t hit other team members. (It didn’t work.)

***

People didn’t touch Captain America because, well, he was _Captain America_ , so people didn’t touch Steve Rogers all that much. Which was fine. He didn’t mind it really. He got used it after a few months. And then the blood showed up, and he couldn’t bring himself to touch other people. Sam’s shirt looked so white. Bruce loved that mug. He couldn’t stain it. Tony already had to laundry because of explosions and labs. Nat didn’t even liked to be touched. Bucky-

***

Steve thought it couldn’t get any worse. That the last few months were bad for him (horrible if you asked anyone else), but it was going to get better. It wasn’t supposed to get worse. Why did always it always get worse? He was so tired. He just wanted this to all be over. 

Tony and him were sitting in some tech room in the Tower monitoring surveillance while Bucky and Natasha were down in one of the ballrooms (just _one_ of them because Tony had multiple in his building) in order to catch this week’s “big bad”, as Tony calls them. Bucky and Nat drew the short draws because apparently the two most well-known faces in the country can’t really do undercover work, and the only other person with undercover knowledge denied the mission on the basis that he doesn’t “do black tie, but if it’s a circus, I’m there”. 

“Not a big fan of a terrorist hanging around my Pepper. Keep an eye on her for me, guys,” Tony said after he tested the coms. Nat looked up to one of the cameras that she knew Tony could see and winked as a slow smirk spread across her face. It looked a little different without her signature red hair, but Steve mused that she looked perfectly fine as a blonde with dramatic makeup. He didn’t look at Bucky. “Hey,” Tony said defensively. “Remember who your date is supposed to be here, Romanoff. Because it certainly isn’t her.” 

Natasha turned towards Bucky and leaned towards his ear. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder in order to keep up the appearances. Steve didn’t look. “Hey, I’m in a room filled with fat cats and their trophies. It would be surprising if the _only_ one I was interested in is my date. Besides, Pep won’t mind. It’s for a mission after all.” 

Tony glared even though he knew she couldn’t see. “So does that make you the trophy or the fat cat?” Nat flipped him off through one of the cameras. “Classy. The mark is on the dancefloor. Go make yourselves useful and pickpocket his phone or something.” 

Steve swallowed and looked over at Tony. He seemed completely at ease, and they couldn’t botch this mission because of some nostalgic flashbacks. Steve tried to keep his eyes on the mark. Watch the big, burly man ungracefully tramp around the dancefloor as his partner seemed to get more and more irritated with her toes being stepped on. There was a flash of blonde by his side, and he tried not to look. He _tried_. But then there was that deep, smooth laugh that he remembers from his dreams, and he just couldn’t help himself from glancing up to see Bucky spinning a dame around like he was in an old jazz hall without a care in the world. His hands around Nat’s waist reminded Steve of when Bucky promised to get him plastered for the first time and ended up going home with Susie Louis who lived just down the street. His head thrown back with that big smile reminded him of when Christy Messer finally gave him a run for his money of best dancer on the block. He looked _happy_. Steve remembered the time that Bucky tried to teach him to dance with the tunes on the radio that didn’t sound the same as the live band in a living room so small they had to push all the furniture to one side. The time when they almost kis-

Steve shook his head to try to get the spinning to stop. That couldn’t be right. This wasn’t anything like any of that, not anything like the good old days (only according to Steve, Bucky seemed perfectly fine with now). This wasn’t some dance hall or their tiny living room or even the same world. Back then, Bucky dragged him to everything, tried to get him out of the house in order to live his life to the fullest, or at least as full as a skinny, asthmatic kid could. Back then, Bucky wanted him around. Bucky _liked_ him. 

“Hey,” Tony shook his shoulder. “You alright, man?” Steve nodded. Tony looked at him a little longer before looking back at the screens. “Did you guys get the phone?” 

“Hold your horses, doll. Ain’t nothing wrong with a little bit of dancin’.” Tony watched Bucky and Nat continue to dance around the mark, waiting for a good moment that wouldn’t give their cover away. Steve watched as his hands began to shake. He remembers Bucky trying to pick a few girls up with a line like that. He _remembers_ , and it isn’t _fair_. Why can’t he forget? Why can’t he forget like Bucky? He just wants it all to go away. He just wants to go away. 

They twirled around for a few more minutes until Nat was able to slip her hand into his coat pocket while the mark was distracted from an irritated look from his partner. “Alright, what are we supposed to be looking for?” Bucky and Natasha were leaning into each other and smiling like they were young and in love for the first time. Steve knew what that look on Bucky was, and it looked like it from a distance. But it wasn’t just right. There wasn’t enough sparkle in the eyes. He closed his eyes tight trying to get his memories out of his head. 

“Uh, something suspicious?” 

“Are you telling us that you don’t know?” Bucky growled at Tony and Steve stopped breathing. 

“Look, if we knew everything that guy knew, we wouldn’t be here. All I know is that he’s supposedly giving millions of dollars to our favorite octopus run organization, so I don’t know what to tell you.” 

“Can’t you hack into it or something?” 

“If I could, we also wouldn’t be here, my frozen friend. But thank you for thinking that I could. I’m flattered.” Tony clicked away on his computer while Steve tried to remind himself to just keep _breathing_. Don’t screw this up like you always do, you idiot. You already lost one friend for good. Don’t keep adding to the list, he told himself. “Just look through his contacts and his calendar. If you can’t find anything, then I’ll think of somewhere else you can look.” 

“We’ll tell you if we find anything, but now I need a drink.” Natasha walked off to the bar leaving Bucky scrolling through the phone. 

“Hey, Steve.” He looked over at Tony to see worried eyes back at him. “Hey, man. You sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine.” Steve choked out. He just needed to breathe. He couldn’t believe he was using these lungs for granted. His old self would hit him and then probably go into an asthma attack from the exertion. Steve knew how to breathe. 

Tony didn’t look convinced. “You know, the only reason you have to sit in here is to babysit me. I can do all this stuff myself, if you need a minute or something.”

“I’m fine, Tony. I am capable of watching security cameras.” Steve turned back to one of the monitors quickly and found the mark. He could hear the blood pounding behind his ears and looked down at his hands to make sure there wasn’t any under his fingernails (there was). He couldn’t get it all off last night. He can never get it off. He was so _tired_. 

Bucky stopped scrolling through the phone and passed it off to Natasha at the bar before going to talk to the mark. He just looked so damn confident. He looked like he was swaggering down Main Street with a raise in pay from the docks in his pockets and a dame around his arm. He looked good. And he didn’t need Steve. He never needed Steve. Steve always needed him, and he finally got him back only to hear what Bucky really thought of him. Bucky couldn’t stand him. Steve couldn’t stand himself. Why was it so hard to just breathe? 

He jumped up before he could even think about what he was doing. He heard Tony call back to him, but he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t breathe in there. There was too much happening. The past and the present all swam around in his head, and he couldn’t figure out where he was supposed to be, who he was supposed to be. 

Steve stumbled through into his apartment before his knees finally gave under him. He dug his fists and his forehead through the floor. Why couldn’t he breathe? A sob ripped through his body before he could stop himself. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t _fair_. He gave up his life a hundred times over. He made others give up their own lives more so. For what? What was he even doing? He was just so tired, so, so tired. Why was he always tired? 

“Shh. Shh, Steve. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m right here, Stevie.” Bucky’s hands ran through his hair and down his back before pulling him into his lap. “I’m right here.” 

“You _aren’t_. You’re far away. You left me. You left me all by myself, and then I got you back. And you left me again. You went so far away. It isn’t fair.” Steve tried to push Bucky off of him, get him away. But he held on tighter and pulled Steve in closer. And Steve couldn’t touch him. He couldn’t get the blood all over him because then he would want to leave again. And Steve didn’t want him to leave. 

“Hey, I’m not far away. I’m right here, dear. I’m right here.” 

“You’re just going to leave again. You’re going to leave and I’m going to be all alone again. You’re going to leave like everyone else.” Steve’s sobs racked through his whole body. Bucky ran a hand through down his back and kissed the back of his head, leaving his lips there to shush him some more. “It’s not fair.” 

“I know, Stevie. I know it ain’t fair. Ain’t fair at all.” 

“No, you don’t,” Steve spat, pushing away from him again. Bucky held on tighter and Steve wished he wouldn’t. He could feel the cold metal on the back of his neck and he remembered he wasn’t allowed to touch. Bucky could, but he couldn’t. “You don’t know at all. You get to live your life and be happy. And I have to _watch_ you. I have to watch you laugh from rooms away, and it’s not fair. I used to make you laugh. And now Natasha gets to, and I don’t. I don’t feel like I ever got out of the ice because this is _hell_ for me. You used to love me, and now you don’t. And you’re far away, and you don’t laugh with me anymore. And I’m just so sad. And so tired. You’re so far away. I used to make you happy. I just wanted you to be happy. And you don’t want me. It’s just not fair.” 

“No, Steve. Doll, that ain’t true. None of that is true. I want you. I want you more than anyone. I love you so much, Steve. Nobody I love more. Nobody in this world. I’m right here.” Bucky held on even tighter with every world until he was practically covering Steve. “Shh, дорогая. I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” 

“I’m so tired, Bucky. I’m so tired.” 

“I know, doll. I know. Let’s go to bed, yeah? C’mon. I got you. I got you, Stevie.” Bucky pulled Steve up until he was standing on his own. There were still tears running down Steve’s face that Bucky wiped away quickly. Bucky pushed his forehead against Steve’s, hands still on his face to wipe away the tears. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Please don’t leave me. Please.” Steve closed his eyes tight hoping not to see rejection flash through Bucky’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Never again, Steve. You hear me? Never again. No one could take me from you.” Steve opened his eyes and felt like he could _breathe_.

***

Steve remembers almost dying. He remembers doing it a lot. He remembers how he would be cold and hot all at once, and how he would be so afraid but so tired that he just wanted it all to end. He remembers that when he was sick, he just wanted to sleep all day long in hopes of never waking up, just like Ma. When he was shot or stabbed or beat, the blood on his hands would remind him that maybe this would all be over soon and he could finally rest. These days he wakes up with his body running hot to get rid of the cold sweats from the night. He wakes up tired and afraid to go through his day. He wakes up feeling like he’s dying. 

***

Steve woke up the next morning with Bucky’s arms wrapped securely around him. Steve’s face was nuzzled into Bucky’s neck where he could smell the hints of cigarette smoke and metal that always seemed to follow him around. (Steve wished he could bottle it up to smell forever.) He shifted his hand to rest over Bucky’s heart before he shot up. He got blood on Bucky’s chest. How could he be so stupid? Stupid, Steve, stupid. Steve felt like hitting himself until he realized that there wasn’t any blood on Bucky’s body and managed to only get it on his hands. Steve sighed before going to the bathroom to start rubbing between his fingers in hope to get it off. 

“You wash your hands a lot.” Steve looked over to where Bucky was leaning on the door frame. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he was still in his suit pants from last night. They were wrinkled, but Steve was sure an iron would get them out. Steve shrugged before turning back to the sink to rub some more soap on his knuckles. “What do you think is on them? Cause I gotta say, pal, those must be the cleanest hands in the city at this point.” 

“Why did you lie to me about why you wanted nothing to do with me?” Steve shot back with a glare. He could hear Bucky sigh before a towel was thrown at his face. “Come on. Dry up. I ain’t talkin’ to you while you’re scrubbing away at your hands. I’ll be in the kitchen. Need coffee for this shit.” Steve didn’t think he was supposed to hear the last part, but he followed anyways. 

Steve sat hunched over a barstool while Bucky leaned across the other side of the counter. Neither one of them said anything while Bucky sipped quietly at his mug. Steve’s was left steaming in front of him. His impatience was starting to set. He thinks Bucky could tell. 

“I had to leave. I couldn’t stay with you, Steve.” Steve swallowed, looking down at his hands and he wondered if it was because red was all over the apartment. “Hey, Steve.” Bucky grabbed his hands. Steve tried to pull them away, but Bucky only held on tighter. “This wasn’t your fault.” 

“Is this the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ routine? Because I don’t want to hear it.” Steve grumbled. 

Bucky chuckled. “No, it wasn’t me either.” That got Steve’s attention. “Look, Stevie. Hydra didn’t have me for the entire time I was the Asset. They only had me for a decade or so before you came along. I was programmed by so many agencies, that I didn’t even know some of my own switches. And I couldn’t risk that, doll. You gotta understand. I couldn’t risk you. If I had hurt you-“ Bucky shook his head before looking down at their conjoined hands. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Steve asked quietly. 

“You wouldn’t have listened. You would have told me we could get through anything, but I couldn’t take that risk. Every day I went around wondering if someone was going to set off a switch in my brain that would make the Asset want to complete its last mission. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it if that happened, Steve. Wouldn’t be able to live with myself, so I had to leave for a little while. Had to make sure you would stay safe, even from me.” 

“Why Natasha? She was an incomplete mission, too.” 

“I know. That’s one of the reasons I picked her. She would be able to set off the same tells you would, but I know that she would fight to death to protect herself from me. You wouldn’t do that, Steve. You know you wouldn’t. Besides, she knew all the ones from the Red Room and would be able to help me get rid of those ones.” Bucky shrugged. Steve started to wonder how long he was planning on holding onto his hands. 

“So, why now? Why hang around me now? Are you just going to leave again? Because-“ Steve started to pull away from Bucky again, but he still wasn’t having it. 

“Hey now, I told you last night. No one is going to take you from me again. Not Hydra, not SHIELD, not the Asset, not anyone. I’m not going anywhere this time.” Bucky walked over to the other side of the counter in order to put his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I’ve been with SHIELD specialists for weeks, and they’ve given me the clear to be around you again. We’ve got safety measures that Tony approved and Jarvis already put them in place to make sure I don’t hurt anyone, especially not you.” 

Steve nodded before looking at his hands. He then stood up and punched Bucky in the jaw. Not hard. Hard enough to get his point across, but not enough to break it or anything. “I’m probably deserved that.” Steve just chuckled that wet people do when they’re trying not to cry, and pulled Bucky into a hug. 

He could have stayed there forever. 

***

Apparently the treatment for getting over mental disorders was therapy, drugs, and a good support system. Steve didn’t particularly like therapy (He went to therapy and the VA once a week, each). And drugs didn’t work on him (Tony tried to make him one, and Steve appreciated the thought). And his support system was rocky at best these days, but he was getting better at letting people back in (Sam made Bucky have five mandatory sit down talks before he let him be counted as Steve’s support). 

***

“Ready to go?” Bucky asked, putting the magazine back on the table before standing up. Steve just shrugged weakly before following him out of the lobby of SHIELD’s medical department. “Want to tell me about it?” He asked Steve quietly, slipping a hand around his waist. (They have already determined that holding hands this early in Steve’s treatment was not a good idea.) 

“I have PTSD.” Steve stated as he pushed the door that led out to the street. The Tower was only three blocks away, so it was good for when Steve wanted to shut himself in and not see anyone. “And depression.” 

“Yeah?” Steve nodded. “Well, alright then. Want me to make pancakes back on our floor?” Steve nodded. “Okay, doll. Sounds like a plan then.” Bucky kissed his temple before pushing the door to the Tower open. 

Steve dropped down onto the ouch once they reached his- their (Bucky moved back in two months ago just to prove to Steve that he was sticking around for good. Nat says it’s because at this point, more of his clothes were at Steve’s than at hers anymore)- apartment. Bucky headed over to the kitchen. He came back a little later with a plate piled high with chocolate chip pancakes which he put on the table in front of Steve before dropping an arm around his shoulders. “How you doin’, Stevie?” Steve shrugged. “Doin’ okay?” Steve nodded into Bucky’s chest. 

“Thank you,” Steve muttered. “For taking care of me.” 

“Course, doll. Anything for you. Anything.” 

Steve kissed him without worrying about the blood on his hands. He hoped Bucky was doing the same.


End file.
